Just About Done
by sugar.coated
Summary: ~SLASH~ A birthday fic for Morwen! Lance/Scott. And generally pointless. . . Bet this summary is gonna get me many readers. . .


**WARNING:** Some slash. And a generally pointless fic. Just so you know.

Just About Done

_by__ sugar.coated_

Lance Alvers stared in front of himself. Then stared some more. And blinked. There were some things that should never be presented to his hormone-controlled teenage mind before eleven thirty on a Saturday morning. One of these things was whipped cream. Another was handcuffs.

Unfortunately, right before Lance's eyes were several handcuffs. Fuzzy handcuffs. **Pink** fuzzy handcuffs. This was not good, especially not when there was an unsuspecting boyfriend standing less than two feet away. The unsuspecting boyfriend in question sighted and pushed up his ever-present sunglasses further up his nose.

"C'mon Lance, just buy something so we can leave now," Scott whined, sounding very much like an over-tired five year old instead of the mature eighteen year old team leader he was supposed to be. He then caught sight of the handcuffs and blanched. "What the. . . ? They sell handcuffs in a toy store?"

Lance blinked.

"We're in a toy store?"

"Yes Lance," Scott said patronizingly, giving the handcuffs a wary look. "We're in a toy store. You dragged me in here five minutes ago claiming that they probably had something that'd be perfect for Maximoff."

Lance blinked again.

"Oh," came the very intelligent reply. Scott stared a little at the taller boy.

"Dude, just how late did you go to bed last night?"

"You should know, you're the one that kept me up," Lance grinned, then turned his attention back to the handcuffs. "And these are **fuzzy handcuffs, so I guess they're allowed to sell them here."**

Scott, noticing that Lance was eyeing the handcuffs in an unquestionably non-healthy fashion, decided that it would be best to just drag the taller boy away from there. So he did just that.

"You're not here to buy something for yourself," he reminded the longhaired teen once they were out of the store. "You're here to buy a birthday present for Pietro. Which you haven't been able to do for the last few hours."

"I suck at buying birthday gifts," Lance whined.

"Then don't buy him anything."

"But then he'll get whiney."

"You mean like you are now?"

Lance pouted.

"You know I shouldn't be up this early at weekends. It messes with my sleeping schedule."

"And your brain," Scott muttered. "Hey, let's go in there," he then exclaimed, pointing to a cloths store and starting to drag Lance in that direction.

"I'm **not** buying **clothes for Pietro," Lance protested. "And. . . they're only selling women's clothes in that one."**

"I know," Scott said. "I just remembered that Jean's birthday is soon, and I need to get her a gift."

"So you're gonna get her clothes? Do you even know what size she wears?"

"Well. . . no. . . not really."

"Then why even bother going in there?"

"Because. . . I don't know. I have no idea what to get her." The brown-haired teen looked around, noticing a jewellery store. "They probably have something there."

"I don't wanna go in there!" Lance protested, getting dragged over there anyway. "I wanna go home now. Can't you get her something some other time?"

"You're the one that forced **me** to come with you. Do you want me to drag **you** out of bed next Saturday just so we can go here and repeat this day all over again?" Scott asked, cringing a little at the memory of the bouncy balls incident which had occurred earlier that morning. Which he wouldn't want to repeat in a million years. Lance just pouted.

A couple of minutes later, Scott stood in deep thoughts next to a rack of earrings. Would Jean prefer a golden chain bracelet or a pink heart necklace? Was this even pink? Everything looked more or less red to him. Maybe he should just get her some flowers instead. While Scott was thinking very hard about this and trying to come up with a good idea, something tiny and sharp clamped down onto his skull.

Squealing in a decidedly unmanly way, Scott whirled around, ready to blast whatever icky creepy-crawlies there might be back to their creepy-crawly-hell. However, the only thing standing there was a very amused Lance holding a handful of small sparkly hairclips. Which he then quickly proceeded to put in the bespectacled mutant's hair.

"Lance. . ." Scott gave the earthmover a suffering look. Lance, being the strong, masculine guy that he was, started to giggle.

"Aww, you look so **cute," he gushed.**

"You are scary," Scott muttered, trying to remove all the evil evil hairclips but failing miserably.

"At least they'll keep your bangs in place," Lance grinned.

"There's nothing wrong with my bangs," Scott sniffed. Lance just rolled his eyes.

"Whatever you say, babe." The longhaired boy glanced around. "I'm going crazy being surrounded by this much jewellery. Hey, why don't you just bribe Kitty into buying something for Red?" Scott blinked.

"Hey, that's actually a good idea."

"I know," Lance grinned. "I rule. She could probably find something for Pietro, too."

"Does that mean we can leave the mall?" Scott asked, apparently very happy with that idea.

"Yes it does. So, what time do ya need to get back at the institute?"

"We have Danger Room at five. Why?"

"No reason. C'mon, let's go buy those handcuffs."

The end

**Authors Ramblings:** A birthday fic for Morwen O'Conner! I wasn't going to show it to anyone else, but. . . Mor told me to post it here. Yes. So you better review or. . . uh. . . hey, it's past midnight over here, leave me alone!

**Disclaimer:** I have nothing. Although my sister has a pair of fuzzy handcuffs. . . *disturbed by this*

**Distribution:** If ya want it, ya can have it. Just keep my name with it and let me know where it ends up.


End file.
